


Jaime Lannister Investigations - Episode 13 of 13

by ShirleyAnn66



Series: Jaime Lannister Investigations [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Remington Steele AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:19:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: Series Summary:The great detective, Jaime Lannister? He doesn’t exist. I invented him. It was working like a charm—until the day he walked in, with his green eyes and mysterious past.Episode 13:Jaime and Brienne receive a new lead on the location of the stolen 'magical' artifacts.





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N1:** Here it is, the Series Finale!! I know, I can’t believe it myself! My goal is to be finished by New Year’s Eve, if editing goes well.
> 
> **A/N2:** You’ll notice the number of chapters is higher than the other episodes. Don’t get too excited; I originally intended for this episode to be twice as long any of the others (words wise), but the story didn’t cooperate. :( I’ve decided, though, that the story beats work better if they’re separated out in more chapters, so I’m spreading the story out over nine chapters. Chapter 10 will be Author’s Notes.

Awesome banner by the equally awesome justme. :)

***/*/*/*/***

_ Previously on Jaime Lannister Investigations: _

_…Bronna hands them each an envelope._

_“Just arrived,” she says.  “Hand-delivered.  Pia says hello, by the way, and you should call them for dinner sometime.”_

_Jaime and Brienne frown at the rich gold and blue envelopes, turning them over in their hands before opening them._

_Inside is an ornate invitation, inviting them to a re-opening of the exhibition of King Jaime I Lannister and Queen Brienne I of Tarth six weeks from that day.  The invitation promises new artifacts and new discoveries that will rewrite history.  Jaime’s eyes pop wide._

_“Sponsored by King Duncan himself!” Jaime says._

_“And he and the Queen are going to be in attendance!” Bronna says with a grin and waves her own envelope.  “I’m not about to miss that!”_

_“Tyrion will love it,” Jaime says._

_“He’ll go and love it, even if he doesn’t,” Bronna sniffs, and Jaime laughs._

_His phone rings and he looks at it._

_“Speak of the devil,” he says and answers it.  “Tyrion, we were just talking about you.”_

_“Glowingly, of course.”_

_“Naturally.”_

_“Well, this is going to make you practically worship at my feet:  I have a lead on the sword hilt, and mayhaps the dragon bone as well.”_

***/*/*/*/***

“A lead?” Jaime says, feeling more surprised than he probably should.  Then again, so much has happened in the last few weeks and months, the still-missing magical artifacts have all but slipped his mind.

Brienne and Bronna frown at him.

“The sword hilt,” he tells them.

Brienne’s eyes widen and Bronna picks up the phone and calls for Sam.

Jaime says to Tyrion, “We’re going into the boardroom and I’m going to put you on speaker phone.”

“Does this mean I’ll need to behave?” Tyrion pouts.

“Would you, even if it did?”

“Jaime, please!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Sam comes huffing into the boardroom as Jaime switches to speaker phone and says, “We’re all here.  What’s the lead?”

“There’s a big Magicon in—”

“A _what_?” Brienne says.

“Magicon,” Bronna says.  “It’s a five-day conference for magic practitioners as well as people who may not practice but do believe magic is real.”  She shrugs.  “I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been on the House of the Undying’s boards.”

Brienne stares at her in disbelief.

“Yes,” Tyrion says, “well, I have it on fairly good authority that the sword hilt is going to be at this Magicon, and mayhaps the dragon bone as well.”

“Who’s the good authority?” Brienne asks.

Tyrion laughs.  “You know better than that, Brienne!  Besides, Jaime knows who it is, too, if he’ll just think about it for a moment.”

Jaime scowls then his face clears.  “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.  Anyway, the event is in Asshai, and starts ten days from now.  According to the website, it’s already sold out, but I’m sure Sam will be able to find a way to get tickets.”

*/*/*/*/*

“Magicon in Asshai,” Jaime murmurs and shakes his head.

“I suppose we should have expected this,” Bronna says with a frown.  “The boards have been humming with nothing but talk about this event, and rumors have been rampant for weeks about huge surprises in store for the attendees.  Everyone’s expecting to see irrefutable evidence that Bran the Sleeper is on the verge of waking.”

“What kind of irrefutable evidence could there possibly be?” Jaime asks.

Sam’s expression changes.  “Son-of-a-bitch,” he mutters, and bolts from the boardroom.

The others exchange surprised looks then hurry after him.  They find him in his office, tapping frantically on his keyboard.

“What’s going on?” Brienne says.

“The dragon eggs!” Sam says as a map of Essos appears with thin lines snaking over it.  He taps the screen.  “They’re heading to Asshai.”

*/*/*/*/*

Sam and Bronna reach out to their contacts on the message boards to see whether they can get tickets while Jaime and Brienne begin making arrangements to go to Asshai.

“Listen,” Bronna says without preamble when they meet to brief Jaime and Brienne the next day, “Sam and I are the ones who have to go to this thing.”

Brienne and Jaime exchange a glance then frown at their friends.

“Really,” Brienne says, her voice flat.  “Last time I checked, I’m the detective in this group.”

Bronna rolls her eyes and waves Brienne’s words away.  “Yes, yes, I know, but this isn’t…Sam, tell them.”

“We’ve scored tickets,” Sam says, “but only two.  Security is also going to be insane, according to LostWolfGirl, who’s a member of the organizing committee.  She’s assured me that you won’t be able to just wander around the conference centre without being questioned at every turn.”

“Besides,” Bronna says, “the two of you would never go unrecognized.  Do you really think whoever has the sword hilt and the dragon bone and the eggs will still talk about them if they know you’re around?”  She shakes her head.  “That’s why Sam and I are the one who need to go.”

“No,” Brienne says, her voice flat.

Bronna says, “It makes sense, Brienne!  We’ve been on the message boards now for months, and while we’re not part of the inner circle, we’ve certainly established a presence there.  Everyone wants to help the newbies who are trying to learn all they can about magic and Bran the Sleeper.”

“Right,” Sam says, nodding.  “LostWolfGirl, Explorah, OneEyedMaegi, Godswife, and Maegi have all taken us under their wings, and they’ve already offered to show us around the Magicon and do what they can to get us into the various sessions.  You’ll never be able to pretend to be us!”

Jaime hums then says, “This could be dangerous, you know.  Whoever is behind all these thefts isn’t going to look kindly on you poking your noses into places where they don’t belong.”

“We’re more likely to find something out without being discovered than you are,” Sam insists, “if for no other reason than because we haven’t been in the news more often than not the last few months.”  He swallows and gives Bronna a nervous glance before he lifts his chin.  “Right now, Bronna and I are the best chance you have to find the stolen artifacts.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow while Brienne scowls, then he turns to her and says, “I hate to admit it, but they’re right.”

“Jaime!”

“We don’t have time to learn enough about the group to blend in with them.  They’re also right that we’re more likely to be recognized than they are.  Our best chance to get information is to let them take the lead.”

Brienne glares at him then turns to Bronna and Sam.  “Fine,” she growls, “I can’t argue with any of that, but you are _not_ to try and recover the artifacts, do you understand?  Just listen and report back to us if you find out anything.”

Bronna and Sam nod very solemnly then turn and gleefully high-five each other.

Brienne groans, closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

*/*/*/*/*

Three days later, Jaime asks Brienne to go for a ride with him.  They’re in car when Brienne asks, “Where are you taking me?”

“To the reliable authority Tyrion mentioned.  I’ve finally convinced him to meet with both of us.”  Jaime’s hand tightens on the steering wheel.  “He’s understandably reluctant to meet with just anyone.”

“Who is ‘he’?”

“We call him the Spider.”

*/*/*/*/*


	2. One

***/*/*/*/***

Varys is well-groomed, bald as an egg, and the fattest man Brienne has ever seen.  His eyes are cold and flat with a calculating gleam and she wonders if he ever does something on the spur of the moment or if every action is planned out decades in advance.

It’s a fanciful thought, but one that still sends a shiver down her spine.

Varys looks at them over steepled fingers.

“Why should I help you?” he says and turns his gimlet glare on Jaime.  “Does your father know you’re here?”

A muscle jumps in Jaime’s jaw and Brienne knows he’s struggling against the urge to remind Varys that Tywin is not actually his father.  Instead, he simply says, “Of course Tywin doesn’t know we’re here.  I know better than to do anything that could damage his livelihood.”

Varys chuckles although there’s no amusement in his eyes.  “‘Livelihood’.  You make it sound like Tywin needs to work to keep a roof over his head when we both know you all have more than enough money to retire and live the rest of your days chasing women, or, in your case, stolen property.  Tywin keeps doing what he does for the challenge and the thrill.”  He sobers.  “I’m sorry about Cersei.”

Jaime glances away, frowning.  “As are we all,” he murmurs.

Brienne knows he’s telling the truth.  Murderess or no, Cersei had been entangled in his life since he was ten, and those emotions and that history doesn’t simply disappear, no matter what the woman has done.

Jaime straightens his shoulders and meets Varys’ eyes with a steady gaze of his own.  “I have no desire to do anything to harm you or your operation.”

“ _You_ may not, but I suspect your companion is not near so forgiving.”

Brienne shifts uncomfortably then says, “I’ve learned to live with things I do not particularly approve of.”  She leans forward and says, “I give you my word that anything you tell us about the sword hilt and the dragon bone will not be used against you.  That doesn’t mean, however, that I won’t hunt you down if I discover you’re involved in other thefts.”

Varys stares at her, his eyes flat and cold.  “Does this guarantee of…hm… _amnesty_ extend to the books as well?”

She blinks.  “The books?”

“The books Tyrion recovered from the ruins of the Old Citadel?” Jaime says, surprised, then shakes his head.  “I should have known you were the contact then, too.”

Varys’ shrug rolls through his masses of flesh like waves in an ocean.  “I only mention it because I’ve heard the books are also going to be in Asshai…and also because I suspect the person who hired me to steal the sword hilt also hired me to steal the books.”

“ _Who_ hired you?” Brienne says, frustrated.

Varys’ expression turns pitying.  “That’s not how this works; there are intermediaries for intermediaries for intermediaries.”  He shrugs again and Brienne isn’t sure if the movement fascinates her or makes her seasick.  “Someone in Essos,” he says, “that’s all I know.  Illyrio got to the sword hilt first and took the dragon bone as well, and whether either of those reached their intended destination has never been confirmed.”

Brienne exchanges a glance with Jaime.

“Illyrio?  Illyrio Mopatis?” Jaime says, turning back to Varys.  “The former Director of the Museum?”

Varys nods.  “For some reason, he decided to commit the theft himself, mayhaps because he was worried his role in the embezzlement scheme with Petyr Baelish was about to come to light.  I traced him to Volantis, where he dropped off the grid.”

“What about the books?”

“My contact was in Meereen.  Hizdahr something or other.  It doesn’t matter; he’s disappeared since as well.”  He folds his hands across his ample stomach and says, “I’ve heard rumors the sword hilt, dragon bone, and the books are to be in Asshai at this...” He lazily waves a hand.  “ _Conference_.”

“Why would you be hearing these rumors?” Brienne demands.

“These are valuable artifacts.  There are other interested buyers.”

Jaime and Brienne stare at him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brienne says.

Varys’ expression doesn’t change as he stares at her.  “I have no idea, and it’s not my job to know.  In my line of work, too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing.  If you want to learn more, well...I believe that’s why you call yourself a detective.”

*/*/*/*/*

Sam shakes his head.  “It’s been over a year,” he says.  “Nobody keeps their security footage that long.  There’s no way to see where Mopatis might have gone once he arrived in Volantis, if I can even find out how he left King’s Landing in the first place.”

“Any hits on his ID?”

“None.”

Jaime sighs.  “Which just means he knows how to drop off the radar when he needs to.  He’s more than just a Museum Director.”

“Or he learned,” Brienne says.  She shrugs at Jaime’s raised eyebrow.  “Jos was on the run and desperate, and he managed to elude detection for almost two years while working right under Petyr Baelish’s nose in the Vale.  Desperation will either get you killed, or save your life.”

Brienne has a sudden memory of the forest and Bolton’s hounds and Reek, and shudders.  Jaime must know what’s going on in her head because he gives her hand a comforting squeeze.

“You’re right,” he says, and she blinks, his handsome face once again coming into focus.  “But you met Mopatis.  Did he seem desperate to you?”

She scowls, trying to remember the heavy-set man she met briefly when Jaime first took over the identity of ‘boss’.  “Well,” she says, “he hadn’t stolen anything at that point.”

“But he had:  money from the museum with Baelish, then the sword hilt and the dragon bone.  Granted, he disappeared very quickly after the latter thefts, but still.  He was already a guilty man when we met him.”

Her scowl deepens.  “Then no, he didn’t seem desperate at all.”

Jaime nods.  “This isn’t something he decided to do on the spur of the moment.  This was something he planned.”

“That’s all well and good,” Sam says, “but that doesn’t help us now.  According to Varys, he went to Volantis, then disappeared.  There’s no way for me to trace him now, not unless he starts using his credit cards or ID somewhere.  What do you want to do now?”

Brienne sighs.  “I guess all we can do is hope the Magicon in Asshai will give us something to go on.”

*/*/*/*/*

The phone rings three days later.

“This is Rhaella Targaryen,” says a thin, reed-like voice on the other end.  “My daughter and grandson are missing.”

*/*/*/*/*


	3. Two

***/*/*/*/***

“Well,” Jaime says, pouting as the limo pulls to a stop in front of the blindingly white house gleaming in the sun, “this isn’t exactly how I thought we would spend our time in the Summer Isles.”

Brienne gives his hand a comforting squeeze and says, “Well, we do have a case, and we can always come back.”

Jaime gives her such a disgruntled glare, all she can do is laugh and kiss him.

*/*/*/*/*

Arthur Dayne, his Kingsguard uniform almost as blindingly white as the house, escorts them to Rhaella Targaryen then glares as he leaves them alone.

Rhaella is small and fragile with stooped shoulders, and the expression in her lilac-coloured eyes is vague and unfocused, as if she’s not used to seeing anything that’s happening around her.  Brienne remembers some of the stories about what Aerys Targaryen had done to her and thinks that if even half of those stories are true, then the woman standing in front of her is a true survivor and stronger than Brienne can even begin to imagine.

Rhaella’s smile is fleeting and nervous as she gestures for Jaime and Brienne to take a seat.

“You must forgive Arthur,” she says, her voice as thin and reed-like as it had been on the phone; it matches her delicately birdlike appearance.  “He’s been loyal to our family for too many years to accept outside help with grace.”

“We understand,” Brienne murmurs and takes a seat on the pristine sofa Rhaella indicated.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Rhaella says, perching on the edge of her own sofa.

“Kidnapping is a serious business,” Jaime says.

“That’s just it:  I’m not certain they _have_ been kidnapped.  Rhaegar and Viserys think I’m a panicky old woman, and mayhaps they’re right...only Daenerys and Jon haven’t been seen in three days, and it’s not like either of them to simply disappear without letting somebody know where they’ve gone.  Jon, especially, which is only to be expected, of course.  He’s not only a Gold Cloak, he was also raised by Ned Stark, after all.”

“Of course,” Jaime murmurs.

“Did you call the local police?” Brienne asks.

“No one will let me,” Rhaella says, and now there’s a thread of rage hardening the vague edges of her voice.  “They don’t want me to cause a fuss if Jon and Daenerys have just gone off with friends to a party or some such thing and forgotten to let us know.  No one seems willing to admit that Daenerys is not like her brothers—thank the gods—and Jon is most definitely his uncle’s son.”  She gives them a fleeting smile that turns her lined face into something approaching beauty.  “Although not quite in the way that makes it sound.”

Brienne presses her lips to together to stop herself from smiling.  “So the compromise was to call us?”

“Well, a compromise on my part, with a hope that you will be discreet once you find them.”

“We’ll do our best,” Jaime says.

*/*/*/*/*

Rhaegar and Viserys dismiss their mother’s concerns with a wave of their hands and drinks by their sides.

“Dany and Jon are close in age,” Rhaegar says, bored. “They have similar interests and like to explore the Isles on their own.  I have no doubt they’re at some resort, having the time of their lives.  It’s what I would have done at their age.”

Brienne clamps her lips on a sudden, vicious urge to remind the man he had been a widower by the time he was Dany’s age, and suspected of murder for all the years since.

“When was the last time you saw them?” she asks, keeping her voice calm with an effort.

Rhaegar shrugs.  “Two days ago?  Mayhaps three…or four.  Time flows together on the Isles.”  He looks up with a nod as one of his Kingsguard replaces his half-empty glass with a full one.  “I don’t know if my Kingsguard enjoy our time here quite as much as I do, but I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Viserys snickers.  “You wouldn’t.  Nor do I,” he adds hastily as Rhaegar levels him with a regal glare.  “Mother certainly does her best to dampen our fun, but, well, she’s old.”

_And suffered much at the hands of your father_ , Brienne thinks, _fueled by the demons and the drugs that controlled him_.  She wonders where this sudden rage and empathy for the older woman is coming from, then remembers how Elia Martell Targaryen died, what Gregor Clegane had done to her, and Rhaegar’s indifference to all of it.  Brienne once again sees the forest and Bolton’s ice-chip eyes as they faced him in the bedroom of the Dreadfort Manor, and grits her teeth.  She looks at the oblivious men in front of her and suddenly wants to scream at them to _see_ Rhaella and what she suffered.

“Do you have any idea where they may have gone?” Jaime asks, snapping Brienne out of her thoughts.  “Did they have a favourite bar or restaurant or beach?”

Rhaegar is languid in the sun and shrugs.  “Not that I recall.  Viserys?”

His younger brother shakes his head.  “I’m not certain if Dany or Jon ever mentioned anything to us.”

Jaime says, “Do you mind if we ask your Kingsguard?”

Rhaegar shrugs again and waves for Gerold Hightower to join them.  “If you must,” he says with a yawn.

Viserys says, “Mother is simply panicking over nothing, you know.  Dany and Jon will show up.  Eventually.”

Hightower gives them an arrogant glare as Rhaegar says, “You won’t find any more answers here.  Gerold, show them out, would you, once you’ve finished with them?”

*/*/*/*/*

As Jaime follows the haughtily disapproving Kingsguard, he wonders if Rhaegar or Viserys—or both of them—have done something to Dany and Jon.  He realizes the tropical location and the drugs and alcohol they’ve obviously been consuming may be impairing their judgment, but this is still their sister and Rhaegar’s son who have not been seen in three—or more—days.  He knows the Targaryens have a different approach to life, but he would have expected _some_ level of concern for members of their own family.

“When was the last time you or any of the other Kingsguard saw Dany and Jon?” Brienne asks Hightower.

“Three days ago,” Hightower says readily enough although his pace doesn’t falter.  “They left shortly after lunch.”

“And didn’t mention where they were going?”

“They don’t answer to me or any of my fellow Kingsguard,” Hightower says, his voice as arrogant as his expression.

“And you didn’t notice or care when they didn’t come back?”

He gives her a pitying look.  “I work for the Targaryens, and have since before Aerys became famous.  It is not my place to question them; I simply do as I’m told.”

Brienne’s eyes are cold as she rakes him with her eyes.  “That must be a comforting lie to tell yourself,” she says.  “Is that what you told yourself while Aerys beat his wife?”

Hightower stops in his tracks.  “You know nothing about any of it,” he growls, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head.”

Brienne flushes and bristles and Jaime quickly steps between them.  “Was there anything suspicious the day they left?” he asks, placing a warning hand in the small of Brienne’s back.

Hightower gives him a contemptuous look before he shrugs.  “No.”

“How about a day or two beforehand?”

Hightower rolls his eyes.  “I know how to spot a potential kidnapper,” he growls.  “There was nothing suspicious.”  He frowns.  “Well, the Maester was strange but not suspicious.”

“Maester?”

Hightower shrugs.  “Typical absent-minded Maester, barely seemed to know where he was half the time.  Still, harmless enough.  Said he was researching the Targaryen family tree and seemed convinced Rhaegar and the others are truly descended from the original Targaryens, who created the Iron Throne.”

“I suppose anything’s possible,” Brienne murmurs.  “According to the history I can remember, the original Targaryens did occasionally intermarry with other families, so I’m sure the DNA is still floating around somewhere in the population.  When was the last time you saw this Maester?”

“At least a week ago.  He asked for Jon and spent about an hour or so with him and Daenerys.”

Jaime and Brienne share a puzzled glance.

“Well, it never hurts to follow up,” Jaime says.  “What’s his name?”

Hightower frowns, thinking.  “Martyn?  Marlyn?  No, Marwyn; that was it.  He said he was staying at the Ebonhead Paradise Hotel, here on the island.”

*/*/*/*/*


	4. Three

***/*/*/*/***

They ride in silence while the limo driver takes them to the Ebonhead Paradise Hotel.  It’s not until they’re pulling up in front of the open-air lobby that Jaime says, “Maester Marwyn traces family trees?”

All Brienne can do is shake her head.

*/*/*/*/*

Their time at the hotel is short.  Maester Marwyn checked out four days earlier.

*/*/*/*/*

This time their silence is even deeper as the limo driver takes them back to their own hotel.  They pay him, thank him, and tell him they won’t need him again.

“Please thank Rhaella for sending you to us,” Brienne says before she and Jaime go into the hotel and head to their room.

Once the door is safely closed behind them, Jaime says, “Well, we can’t call Sam and ask him to see what he can find on the hotel’s security cameras.”

“No,” Brienne says.  Bronna and Sam left that morning for the magicon in Asshai.  She glances at her watch and does some quick calculations.  “They should still be in the air and it will be far too late by the time they land, even if Sam could do anything when he’s half-a-world away.”

Jaime nods and pulls out his phone.  “Time for Plan B.”

*/*/*/*/*

Tyrion is more than willing to help them out, although he’s disgustingly gleeful as he says, “You owe me one now, Jaime.”

Jaime sighs.  “That’s always a terrifying thought.”  The light glinting on his gold hand catches his eye and his heart clenches at the memory of just how much he owes the man he calls brother.  “Please don’t ask me to do anything that will make Brienne angry.”

“Gods, no!” Tyrion says.  “That woman frightens me almost as much as Bronna.”

“Bronna?  Or her father, Bronn?”

“Either.  Both.  All of them.  Oh, for the gods’ sake, I’ll see what I can find and you won’t owe me a thing.”

Jaime laughs.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime turns to Brienne and says, “Well, there’s not much else we can do now but wait.”

She frowns at him, distracted.  “We can start canvassing the bars and restaurants and hotels,” she says.  “If Rhaegar and Viserys are right, we should find some trace of them somewhere.”

Jaime sighs a little and says, “How about a compromise?”

She blinks at him then her eyes widen as she takes in the gleam in his eyes.

“What kind of compromise?” she asks, a suspicious note in her voice.

“We’ll go out and canvas as many places as we can tonight, and tomorrow morning, but the afternoon belongs to us.”

“We’re on a case!”

Jaime slides his arms around her and gently pulls her closer.

“Yes,” he says, soothingly, “I haven’t forgotten that.  But we’re also in the Summer Isles…plus we can’t work _all_ the time.  A couple of hours tomorrow afternoon just for us; that’s all I ask.”

She scowls even as she melts against him.  He can almost see the internal struggle she’s having.  “All right,” she finally says, “but if we find a lead before then…”

Jaime smiles and kisses her.  “The case comes first,” he murmurs, “I completely understand that.  We’ll have our phones with us in case Tyrion finds something.”

She nods and Jaime kisses her again.

*/*/*/*/*/*

That night and the following morning, they methodically canvas the most popular restaurants and bars but come up empty:  no one has seen Jon and Dany since the last time they left the Targaryen estate.

“Let’s hope Tyrion finds something,” Jaime says, late that afternoon.

Brienne glumly nods and allows him to lead her towards the beach.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime takes Brienne to a secluded nook of white sand beach where he persuades her to strip off her clothes and swim with him as naked as her nameday.  She’s like a fish in the water, which isn’t a surprise since she grew up on an island, and when they finally emerge from the ocean, he makes love to her there, on the silky sand, with her skin glowing in the setting sun just like he dreamed.

He tells her she’s beautiful and that he loves her, and afterwards, as they doze, he wonders what he did right to deserve to be in a place like this with a woman like Brienne beside him.  He closes his eyes, his arms wrapped around her, and for perhaps the first time in his life, feels at peace.

*/*/*/*/*

They’re slightly sunburnt by the time they return to their hotel room just as Tyrion calls.  Jaime puts him on speaker phone.

“Marwyn didn’t fly out of the Summer Isles, or take any commercial ferries or ships,” Tyrion says.

“And he hasn’t surfaced back in Westeros?” Brienne asks.

“No, and I doubt he will.  When did Jon and Dany go missing?”

“Five days ago.”

“Right.  Well, I’ve managed to access the security footage from the hotel for that day, which also happens to be the day Marwyn checked out of his hotel with three large trunks in tow.”

Jaime’s mind stalls for a moment.  “That sounds strangely familiar.”

“If I recall correctly, you were once smuggled out of a Lannisport hotel in a suitcase.”

“I was indeed.”

“None of this proves Marwyn has anything to do with Jon and Dany’s disappearance,” Brienne reminds them.

“True enough,” Tyrion says equably, “plus I’m still scouring the footage to see if I can see if I can find Jon and Dany going into the hotel while I’m waiting for the last of the CCTV footage from around the Targaryen’s estate and the various roads into town to finish downloading.  Mayhaps I’ll catch sight of our missing duo when they leave the estate if nothing else.”

“Mayhaps,” Jaime says.  “In the meantime, where did Marwyn go with his three trunks?”

“To the docks.”

“So he _did_ get on one of the ferries?” Brienne says.

“I already told you he didn’t get on the public ferries.  No, he and his trunks got on a private boat, which left the dock almost immediately after Marwyn got on board.”

“A _private_ boat?” Brienne says, confused.  “Which boat?”

“The _Dothraki Khaleesi_.”

*/*/*/*/*


	5. Four

***/*/*/*/***

“None of this proves anything,” Brienne reminds Jaime even as they’re in the cab and heading to the docks.

“Come on, Brienne!  How many coincidences do we need?”

“Look…” she stalls and scowls at him.  “We have no evidence that they have Jon and Dany, and if we’re wasting our time chasing this lead and it turns out to be nothing, and then we find out something’s happened to them...”

“It’s been five days, Brienne,” Jaime says, his voice very quiet, “soon to be six.  It may already be too late, no matter if it’s Marwyn and Jorah or not.”

Brienne looks away, her throat clicking.  “ _We_ escaped,” she whispers.

“Yes, we did,” Jaime says, frowning down at his gold hand, thinking of the first time he had been held captive by sadistic men; trying not to think of the second time.  “Mayhaps Jon and Dany will also be as fortunate.”  His frown deepens.  “Sometimes the cost is high, but life is worth it.”

Brienne puts her hand on his gold hand then leans over and kisses him.  “It’s more than worth it,” she murmurs in his ear and he slowly smiles.

“I love you,” he says.

She ducks her head and smiles back.  “I love you, too.”

*/*/*/*/*

They speak to the Night Harbour Master, and learn that no one needs to tell anyone where they’re going when they leave the dock.

“We’re not talking planes, here,” the Night Harbour Master says, not unkindly.  “There’s no flight path to be filed, and people are free to sail where they will.”  He considers his words then shrugs.  “They take their chances like everyone else.”

*/*/*/*/*

Tyrion calls again as they’re strolling down the dock, wondering where to go next.

“I think I’ve found footage of Jon and Dany going into the Ebonhead Paradise Hotel the morning they disappeared,” he says.

“‘Think’?” Brienne says.

“If it’s them, they’re wearing disguises.  Dany has on a big sun hat and sunglasses, and Jon is almost the same.”

“What makes you think it’s them, then?”

“Besides the fact they physically match Jon and Dany, the couple also walks in, goes straight to the elevators, and no one matching their descriptions have left since.”

“Well,” Jaime says, “either Marwyn put them in those trunks, or they’re holed up in that hotel.  Together.”

Brienne wrinkles her nose.  “Ew.  They’re aunt and nephew!”

Jaime shrugs.  “Well, historically, Targaryens did keep it all in the family.”

“At least that’s the rumor,” Tyrion says.  “Still, it’s not a smoking gun.  I also caught Jon and Dany leaving the estate, but CCTV isn’t as widespread as in Westeros.  I lose their car after they pass a gas station on the outskirts of town.”

“Their car...” Brienne murmurs.  “Any hits on the license plate?  Tickets or towing or something?”

“No, but I’ll text you the license plate number.”

They stop the next person they see and Brienne says, “Where do people leave their cars around here?”

*/*/*/*/*

They scour three parking lots around the docks before finding the car in the fourth.  They check and double-check the license plate, then Jaime texts Tyrion and asks him to see if there’s any CCTV footage of the parking lot.  They go to the marina for a drink while they wait for the response.

Tyrion texts them two photos of the man who left the car in the parking lot:  one when he gets out of the car, and another that’s gives them a better angle of his face.

“Jorah Mormont,” Jaime says.  “The pseudo-scientist, not the actor.”  He takes a drink and gives Brienne a wry grin.  “Is the gun smoking enough for you?”

Brienne sighs and nods.

*/*/*/*/*

Rhaegar and Viserys insist the local police be kept out of it.

“For all we know, they’ve willingly participated,” Viserys says.  “I wouldn’t put it past Dany.”

“And Jon?” Brienne asks, her voice dry.

“Jon could use some loosening up.  Mayhaps this is all a prank Dany is pulling.”

Brienne simply stares, unblinking, then turns to Rhaella.  “You’re the one who hired us.  We should call the police.”

Rhaella’s hands flutter nervously, but there’s a gleam of something Jaime can’t quite decipher in her pale lilac eyes.  “I suspect wherever this...Jorah, you said?  Jorah _Mormont_?  You’re certain it’s not Daenerys’ actor friend?”

“Positive,” Jaime says.

“Well, if they left on a boat, then I’m sure they’re no longer in the jurisdiction of the police on these Isles...not that I think it would matter.  I have never found the police here to be particularly... _effective_.”  She glances away then meets his gaze.  “By rights, we should send the Kingsguard with you.”

“I need them here, Mother,” Rhaegar immediately says, “not running after two headstrong children seeking adventure.”

“Of course you do,” Brienne murmurs.  “We’ll see what we can do, Mrs. Targaryen.”

Rhaella’s smile is sweet but far too fleeting.  “Thank you, Brienne.  I know you will.”

*/*/*/*/*

They leave that night for Dragonstone, and walk into Aurane Waters’ office the next morning with grim faces.

He gives them a smile that fades as he takes in their expressions.  “What’s going on?” he says.

“When was the last time you spoke to Jorah Mormont?” Brienne says without preamble.

Aurane blinks.  “ _Jorah_?  I...I don’t really know.  A few weeks, at least, mayhaps more.  We’re organizing another dig, trying to see if we can find another nest of dragon eggs.  It won’t happen for a couple of years, though, given his touring and writing schedule, not to mention what happened to the last nest we found.”

“Where is he now?”

Aurane frowns.  “I have no idea; I don’t keep tabs on him twenty-four-seven!  He could be anywhere.  He calls when he has something to say, otherwise I don’t hear from him.  We’re business partners, not friends!”  He gives them a hard stare.  “What’s this about?”

“We suspect Jorah has participated in—or at least planned—the kidnappings of two people.”

Aurane’s jaw slowly drops, the blood draining from his face.

“Sweet Seven, he’s done it,” he whispers.

“Done what?” Jaime snaps.

Aurane rubs his forehead, grimacing as if he’s in pain.  “You both know—well, the entire world knows, really—Jorah’s obsession with the Last Dragon Queen, the Dothraki Khaleesi who led the Dothraki into exile in Westeros.  You know her name, right?”

“I thought her name was lost to history,” Brienne says.

“Scholars are still debating, but for the most part, they believe her name was Daenerys.”

Jaime and Brienne stare at him in silence, then Jaime says, “So, you’re saying Jorah kidnapped Daenerys Targaryen—the actress—because he thinks she’s...what?  The Last Dragon Queen come back to life?”

Aurane spreads his hands and shrugs.  “I think so.  He’s been obsessed with her since he saw her first movie, but it kicked into high gear when we found the dragon eggs.  He swore it was a sign that the dragons are returning and the Dothraki Khaleesi with them.  All that’s needed is for Daenerys to remember who she truly is.”

“By the gods,” Brienne mutters, “where did all these insane people come from?”

Jaime ignores her, his eyes on Aurane’s face as he says, “Ah, yes, the dragon eggs.  How did you pull that one off?”

Aurane flushes.  “You were there!  It was a legitimate find!”

“Dragons didn’t exist,” Jaime says, his voice cold and flat, “and now two people have disappeared, apparently kidnapped by a man obsessed with the idea that non-existent dragons are on the verge of returning.  We don’t know what he’s planning and we’ve already lost too much time.  _How did you fake the eggs_?”

Aurane deflates, shrinking into his chair.  “Look...I just wanted enough money to live on for the rest of my life!  I planted them four years ago.  Buried them then went out every few weeks to wet the ground and tamp it down even more.  Then I let them sit and settle while I tried to convince somebody to pay for the dig.  It’s why I had to find the fragment when I did; I needed to build up the idea that there might be something more to be found.  Jorah was a gods-send!  Peddling those theories of his have made him a fortune and when I discovered he actually believed the auroch-shit he was selling, well, he was exactly what I needed.  Having you on the dig to lend credibility to the find was just a bonus.”  Aurane’s eyes narrow.  “How did you get on the dig anyway?”

Jaime’s smile is coolly impersonal.  “As I told you at the time:  I enjoy that kind of thing and was looking for a holiday.”

Aurane nods, his expression skeptical.

Brienne says, “You know Jorah the best of anyone.  If Jorah’s kidnapped Dany and her nephew, Jon Snow, where do you think he would take them?”

Aurane shrugs.  “I have no idea.”

Jaime takes a threatening step towards him and Aurane immediately flings his hands up in a placating gesture.

“ _I don’t know!_   I swear it!  Jorah was always babbling on about, well, everything, really, and after a while, who was listening other than those who bought his books?”  Now Brienne takes a threatening step forward and Aurane quickly says, “Vaes Dothrak, most like, since the Last Dragon Queen burned it to the ground, if the legends can be believed.  Or mayhaps Meereen, which she also burned to the ground.  Or any of the Free Cities, really, since she—”

“Burned them all to the ground,” Brienne says drily.  “That leaves all of Westeros as well since there was the Great Burning.  Mayhaps that was the Last Dragon Queen’s doing as well.”

Aurane spreads his hands in an expressive shrug.  “Mayhaps Jorah is taking Dany to walk in her namesake’s footsteps, in the hopes that he will wake the dragon.”

“Or the sleeper,” Brienne mutters.

“What?”

“Did Jorah ever talk about Bran the Sleeper?”

Aurane frowns.  “Well, naturally.  The legends of Bran the Sleeper are intertwined with the legends of the Last Dragon Queen.  He will wake when magic returns to Planetos, and what is more magical than dragons?”  He shakes his head.  “What happens to the rest of us if such a thing were to happen is not something Jorah ever cares to discuss.”

*/*/*/*/*

“Has the entire world run mad?” Brienne demands once they’re back in their car.  “Kidnappings and thefts because of dragons and legends and magic?  Gods, what else are they willing to do to feed their delusions?”

Jaime shakes his head.  “Not the entire world, just a small subset of it.  Unfortunately, that small subset has turned criminal rather than amusing.”

Brienne glares out the window for long moments before she sighs and turns to him.  “Where do you suggest we go next?”

Jaime gives a helpless shrug and says, “Well, the dragon eggs are part of this.  Let me call Tywin.”

*/*/*/*/*

Tywin sounds coldly amused by their question but also strangely subdued.

“The dragon eggs?” he says.  “Varys was my contact for those as well.  He’s been nothing but these odd ‘magical’ artifacts the last few years.”

“Who was your contact in Essos?” Jaime asks.

“We were to make contact once we arrived in Astapor.  It wasn’t necessary, however.”

Jaime frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you know?  Somebody else got to the eggs first.  Cost me millions.”  Tywin sighs.  “Mayhaps you have the right idea, ‘Jaime’.  Retirement looks more appealing every day.”

*/*/*/*/*


	6. Five

***/*/*/*/***

They return to King’s Landing and Jaime says, “We’ll talk to Varys.  Mayhaps he knows more than he’s saying.”

Brienne nods.  “I’ll get in touch with Sam and Bronna, let them know we’re back in King’s Landing and tell them to be on the lookout for...”  She trails off and gives a helpless shrug.  “Something.  Anything.  I don’t know...mayhaps people talking about waking the dragon, not just the sleeper?  I feel like everything is made of smoke.  Nothing makes sense!”

“It doesn’t make sense because we’re thinking like realists—as in, we believe in the reality we see.  It makes perfect sense if you believe magic is real and is on the verge of returning, if you can only get all the ingredients together to help it along.”  Jaime stops, struck by his own words.  “Get all the ingredients together...” he whispers.

Brienne’s eyes are as wide as his own.  “Dragon eggs need a Dragon Queen,” she murmurs.  “What were those books Tyrion stole again?”

“Books about dragons, I think.”

“A sword hilt that might have once housed a Valyrian steel blade.”

“A bag of dust that was once a magic candle.”

“A necklace that once held a gem that could cast glamors.”

“If they can gather all those things together…”

“Then...what?  A ritual of some sort?”

Jaime nods.  “Something that would return dragons to the world, and therefore wake Bran the Sleeper.  Something… _magical_.”

They stare at each other in silence, then Brienne says, “What kind of rituals?  Why would they need Jon?”

They stare at each for another long moment, then Jaime says, “Maester Aemon.”

*/*/*/*/*

Maester Aemon listens to them in silence then says, “I find it difficult to believe Marwyn would be involved in anything nefarious.”

“We don’t yet know what his exact role may be,” Jaime says, “or why he would participate, but that’s not our concern right now.  We need to find Dany and Jon.  What were magical rituals like, in the Age of Magic?”

“Brutal,” Aemon says, his voice flat.  “Barbaric.  Blood sacrifices and worse.”

Brienne pulls in a sharp breath.  “Human sacrifice?”

“Only death can pay for life.”

*/*/*/*/*

“What should we do now?” Brienne asks, as she dials Bronna’s number for the second time that day.

Jaime paces her office and says, “If we can’t trace them, then we need to think differently.  They have the ingredients.”

Brienne shakes her head as her call goes once again to voice mail.  She disconnects the call and says, “They only have Dany and Jon, everything else is— _holy fucking Seven, are we blind_?”

Jaime stares then, as she waves her phone at him, he throws his hands up in the air.  “We fucking must be!  _The Magicon!_ ”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne and Jaime tell Tyrion to see if he can access the security systems of the harbours in and around Asshai while they keep trying to reach Sam and Bronna.  They have no luck with the latter, and with growing desperation, they leave voice mails, messages at the hotel’s front desk, and texts.

Finally, Jaime calls Tyrion.

“Where are their cell phones?”

There’s silence while they hear Tyrion’s fingers fly over his keyboard, then he says, “They’re in Asshai.”

“But they haven’t been answering our calls,” Brienne says, “or our texts.”

Tyrion’s voice is tightly controlled as he says, “The phones are in Asshai and mayhaps phones are banned while you’re at the convention.  That’s all I can tell you…other than I haven’t heard from Bronna in two days.”

“We’ll get on the next flight,” Brienne says.

“Tomorrow’s the last day.  Even if you could get a flight tonight, by the time you get there, everyone will have left or be leaving.”

*/*/*/*/*

They pace the office and Brienne texts Bronna and Sam again.  Then again.

Brienne calls the hotel’s front desk and they ring her through to first Bronna’s room, then Sam’s.  There’s no answer and the call just goes to the hotel’s voice mail system.  Again.

Brienne calls the front desk and says, “Have you seen them in the hotel anywhere?”

“Ma’am, I don’t know what they look like.”

Brienne curses as she disconnects the call, an icy lump forming in her stomach.

Jaime watches her as she scowls down at her phone before turning her glare on him.

“Do you have anyone in Asshai?” she demands.

“Let me make a few calls.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne paces the floor then turns to Jaime.  “How long before your friends tell us something?”

Jaime shrugs.  “They’re a few hours away from Asshai; they’ll get in touch as soon as they have information.  You need to relax, Brienne.”

“There must be something we can do!” Brienne says, throwing her hands up in the air as she speeds up her pacing.

“What do you suggest?” Jaime says.

Brienne growls at him then stops in mid-stride.  “They have the ingredients.  Where do they need to be to perform the ritual?”

*/*/*/*/*

Josmyn Peckledon first looks confused, then intrigued.  “Well, I don’t know,” he says.  “Can you give me a few hours to do some research?”

Brienne sighs.  “Don’t take too long.”

Jos is already turning to his computer.  “Two hours at the most,” he says.  “I have some ideas.”

*/*/*/*/*

Pia escorts them to the museum’s entrance.  “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Brienne shakes her head.  “I’m afraid not.”

Pia nods.  “I hope Jos will be able to help with whatever it is.”

Jaime smiles.  “We hope so, too.”

*/*/*/*/*

The next few hours stretch endlessly before them.  Brienne restlessly paces the office until Jaime finally pulls her into his office, where he sits in the armchair and pulls her on his lap.

“I’m too big and heavy for this,” Brienne mutters, struggling a little in his grip.

“You’re not too big,” Jaime says, tightening his arms around her, “and I’m strong enough.  Now, I want you to sit. There’s nothing you can do right now.”

She doesn’t relax, sitting ramrod straight and awkward on his knee.  “That’s the problem.”

“We have people digging for us.  We have to let them do their jobs.”

She looks at him, her bottomless blue eyes wide and frightened.  “What if something’s happened to them?  It will be my fault if it has; I’m the one who sent them there.”

“We don’t know what’s going on yet.  For all we know, they had to leave their phones behind in order to attend the sessions, or turn them off while there.  There’s no point in feeling guilty until we have a reason to do so.  Now.  You’re going to drive yourself crazy.  I want you to relax here, with me, until you no longer have the urge to wear a hole in the carpet with your pacing.  All right?”

She glares.  “Aren’t you worried at all?”

“I’m fucking terrified, but until I have a place to go or something to do, and someone to do it to, I’m going to do my best to conserve my energy.  Sooner or later, we’ll have word, and then we’ll know what we need to do.”

Her glare turns into a pout. “I’m not sure I like you very much right now.”

“So long as you love me, I can live with that.”

She blushes, and the tension in her body eases slightly.  “I do love you.”

“Good.  Because I love you, too, and we’re going to make our way through this.”  He smiles at her and gives her a kiss.

They shift around until she can put her head on his shoulder, and they sit, clinging together while they wait for time to pass and for other people to accomplish what they cannot.

*/*/*/*/*


	7. Six

***/*/*/*/***

Tyrion calls first thing the next morning.

“As far as I can tell, the cell phones haven’t moved and they definitely haven’t been used,” he says, his voice tight with concern.  “The lack of movement doesn’t concern me, since they might simply be staying close to the hotel, but the lack of use is worrisome.”

“Especially considering all the messages and texts we’ve sent,” Jaime mutters.

“How do you—I don’t want to know, do I?” Brienne says.

“I would have thought you would have learned by now,” Jaime says with a strained smile.

She nods.  “Plausible deniability.  I know.”

Brienne wishes the teasing made her feel better.

Jaime turns back to the speaker phone.  “I have somebody checking out the hotel,” he says.

“I thought you would,” Tyrion says.  “There’s more.  The dragon eggs are on the move.”

“Already?  Isn’t today the last day of the Magicon?”

“Yes, but remember:  there’s an eight-hour time difference between us.  It’s already early evening in Asshai.”

“...right.”  Jaime sighs.  “The fact they didn’t answer some of our texts could have been explained away by the time difference…but it doesn’t explain why we haven’t heard anything _at all_.”

Brienne shakes her head and leans closer to the phone.  “You said the dragon eggs are on the move?”

“Yes...and they’re on the ocean.”

*/*/*/*/*

The _Dothraki Khaleesi_ does not show up in any harbour manifest that Tyrion can access.  In the end, they decide it doesn’t matter:  the eggs are on the move and are most likely on the same boat as Dany and Jon.

“Well,” Jaime says, “at least they haven’t found the GPS bugs we put on the eggs so we’ll be able to track where they’re headed.”

Brienne nods and heaves a deep sigh.  “Assuming the eggs really are on the same boat as Jon and Dany.”

Jaime gives her a concerned look and she grimaces.

“At least it’s something,” she mutters.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime’s contact in Asshai calls next and confirms their worst fears:  Sam and Bronna have not been seen in days.  All their belongings and their cell phones are still in their hotel rooms.

Brienne extends the room bookings and hopes she’ll be asking for Sam and Bronna’s personal belongings to be returned to them, and not to her.

She closes her eyes and says a prayer to the Father to keep them safe.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime makes another couple of calls then calls Tyrion again.

“I’ve called in a couple of favours,” Jaime says.  “Do you think you can make a positive identification of the boat if seen from above?”

“It would be better if we could see the name of the boat,” Tyrion says drily, “but I can probably work with an aerial photograph, yes.”  He pauses then says, “Oh gods, did you call _Varamyr_?”

“Closest person I knew with ready access to a plane.”

“He’s insane, Jaime!  I mean, he’s actually certifiable!”

“But he flies like an eagle.”  Jaime gives Brienne a reassuring smile.  “So long as he doesn’t take it into his head to buzz the boat, we should be fine.”

“Oh, gods,” Tyrion groans.

Brienne raises an eyebrow and says, “That’s why I love you, Jaime:  you know such _lovely_ people.”

Jaime lights up.  “A _Thin Man_ quote?  I’m touched!”

“You’re touched all right,” Tyrion mutters,

“Look on the bright side,” Jaime says.

“ _What_ bright side?” Tyrion growls.

“If Varamyr doesn’t plow his plane into the sea, he may get close enough to see the name on the boat.”

Brienne and Tyrion groan.

*/*/*/*/*

Jos is the next to call.

“Sorry; it took a little longer than I expected,” he burbles happily.  “The songs and legends are, of course, vague, and true historical records are sparse.  There’s a reason why so many details about the Age of Magic have been lost to history.  It’s why we’re so excited for the re-opening of the exhibit of the first Lannister King and his Queen.  We’ve discovered something that—”

“Jos,” Jaime says firmly, “what have you found out about Bran the Sleeper?”

“Oh!  Right.  Sorry.  I’m just very excited about—never mind that now _._ T _here are songs that tell of a great wizard for whom the past and present and future are as one, sleeping in a secret tomb far in the North.  He watches over Westeros in his dreams and will wake again if magic and dragons stir once more in the world.  Depending on the song, he_ either transformed into a tree, or his tomb is hidden in the roots of a tree.  Some legends say he’s a Stark of Winterfell, but others claim he’s just an ordinary man with extraordinary powers.”

“Any theories about where the tree might be located?” Brienne asks.

“Well, it depends on whether the legend thinks Bran was a Stark of Winterfell or not.  If the former, then he’s somewhere on the grounds of Winterfell—the castle, not the city.  Most likely somewhere in the ancient crypts.  Although according to historical accounts, there was a godswood inside the castle walls, which included weirwood trees.”

“Weirwood trees?”

“They were worshipped in the North but are extinct now.  There’s one—or the replica of one—still standing in Winterfell—the castle, not the city.  The castle’s website claims it’s the real thing although it’s been dead for centuries.  It’s still standing because the castle’s historical society, well, they basically artificially petrified it with lacquer or something.  I’ve looked at the pictures they’ve posted; the tree’s rather terrifying, really, when you see it.”

“Do the legends say Bran turned into a weirwood tree?”

“Those that claim Bran was a Stark of Winterfell, yes.  Those that claim he’s an ordinary man, no.  Those say he’s hidden somewhere in the forests of the far North, waiting for the return of dragons and magic.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne ends the call then sighs as she leans back in her chair.

“Winterfell?” she says.

“Most likely,” Jaime says.  “We’ll know soon enough which direction the eggs are travelling.”

She nods, then once more reaches for her phone.  “I’m going to call Rhaella.  Give her a status update.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

Brienne scowls.  “I’m going to tell her we’re making progress and that I’m certain neither Dany nor Jon have been harmed.” She grimaces. “I just won’t include the ‘yet’.”

*/*/*/*/*


	8. Seven

***/*/*/*/***

The next three days is a waiting game.

Once Varamyr confirms the boat the dragon eggs are on is the _Dothraki Khaleesi_ , Jaime and Brienne give up any pretense of keeping the office open and hole up at Tyrion’s place.  They watch the achingly slow progress of the eggs as they move across the ocean from Asshai to the Narrow Sea, then towards the North.  As the eggs inch closer to White Harbour, Jaime turns to Tyrion and says, “Can the eggs be tracked on mobile?”

“I can do that,” Tyrion says.

“Good.  Brienne and I will leave for Winterfell in the morning.”

“It’ll be ready.”

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne arrive in Winterfell late the next morning and book into a hotel.  They check the app Tyrion made for them the night before and see the boat has finally arrived at White Harbour.

“If they’re going somewhere other than Winterfell, at least we’re closer than if we’d stayed in King’s Landing,” Brienne says.

Jaime nods and says, “Let’s go check out the castle.”

*/*/*/*/*

The castle is in ruins and closed to the public.  They explore what they can while Jaime discreetly surveys the fences and security systems.

“There may be additional security once we get past the fence,” he says to Brienne, “but at least the initial perimeter will be easy to breach.”

Brienne nods, frowning.  “Why do you think it isn’t more heavily guarded?”

Jaime shrugs.  “It’s mostly crumbled stone and whatever remains of the godswood, if their website is to be believed.  The fence is to keep most people away who would wander onto the grounds and be hurt.  The godswood may be more heavily secured, if only because there’s something there that could be more easily destroyed.”

“You think they’ll go to the godswood?”

“If they believe Bran the Sleeper is either a tree or his tomb is in the roots of a tree, well...where else would they go?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Brienne mutters, and checks the current location of the eggs.

*/*/*/*/*

They return to the hotel to eat and nap and wait as patiently as they can.  Tyrion was kind enough to build an alarm into the app that warns them when the eggs arrive within ten miles of them.  When it finally goes off, it’s almost one in the morning.

“I’m not surprised,” Brienne mutters as they leave the hotel room.  “What they plan on doing can’t withstand the light of day.”

*/*/*/*/*

As expected, they track the eggs to Winterfell castle.  Jaime makes quick work of the fence and the security cameras then they creep through the blackness of night towards the godswood.

Jaime checks the app on his phone and scowls.  He shows it to Brienne and she frowns as she checks her own app to confirm what he’s seeing.

If they’re reading the app correctly, the eggs aren’t going to the godswood.  Instead, they’re inside the castle ruins...and Jaime and Brienne are losing the signal.

*/*/*/*/*

It takes Jaime and Brienne another fifteen minutes of methodically searching the area where they lost the signal before they find the door hidden behind overgrown vines and bushes.  They ease it open to find stone stairs leading downwards, a faint, flickering light in the distance, and what Jaime heartily prays are human voices faintly murmuring.

Jaime uses the flashlight on his phone to lead the way, carefully creeping down the stairs with Brienne close behind him, and he prays no one is watching the entrance.

They reach the bottom and find a number of crypts and statues of what Jaime assumes are dead Starks of Winterfell.  He shivers a little at the thought, then glances at Brienne and continues stealthily moving forward.

The flickering light is coming from around a corner and the mumbling voices get louder and clearer, although no more intelligible, as Jaime and Brienne inch closer.

As they reach the corner, the low voices begin to chant, and the flickering light suddenly gets larger and brighter.  They can now hear and smell burning wood, and Jaime’s blood runs cold.

Jaime and Brienne crouch down and cautiously peer around the corner.  It takes a precious few seconds to understand what he’s seeing, and then Jaime’s mouth slowly sags open.

There’s a large fire burning in a brazier, and it might have even seemed cheerful under different circumstances.  However, there’s a pile of kindling and logs in the middle of a large open space, arranged in such a way as to be flat. Laid on top of this pile, spreadeagled, tied to crosses, and positioned as three sides of a crude triangle, are Sam, Bronna, and Daenerys.  The dragon eggs are nestled between their feet in such a way that each person is touching one of the eggs.

Immediately across from Jaime and Brienne is Jorah Mormont, watching Daenerys with an expression that is equal parts worried, besotted, and borderline rapturous, like some religious fanatic who is about to meet his god.  Clutched in Jorah’s hand is the dragon bone.

On the floor beside Jorah, trussed up from head to toe and gagged, is Jon Snow.  Beside him on the floor is the sword hilt.

Standing in a semi-circle around what can only be intended as a funeral pyre, their backs to Jaime and Brienne, are four women and one man. All of them are dressed in flowing red robes that glimmer and glow in the firelight.  Even from the back, Jaime recognizes Yna, Mirri, Maggy and Marwyn.  The fourth woman is unknown to him.  She’s the obvious leader, and not simply because she’s in the centre, with Yna and Maggy on one side of her and Marwyn and Mirri on the other.  Her robe is a more vibrant red, the fabric richer.  The other women are wearing their hair up while hers flows to her waist although the brown is liberally mixed with grey.  This mystery woman is also leading the chant, in some language Jaime can’t decipher, with the others responding or repeating or... _something_ whenever she pauses.

Jaime and Brienne duck back around the corner.  Jaime pulls Brienne close and whispers in her ear, “This is some real Temple of Doom bullshit.”

Brienne grimaces and closes her eyes.  When she opens them again, she’s looking at him with exasperated affection.  “I love you,” she whispers and gives him a quick kiss.  “Let’s hope none of them are armed.”

Then she stands up and steps around the corner.

*/*/*/*/*

Jon is the first one to notice her, his eyes widening, his jaw dropping as much as it can given the gag in his mouth.  Jorah sees her next and he gapes at her before he recovers enough to shout out a warning to the others.

Those who are chanting stumble over their words at Jorah’s exclamation, then spin as one to look behind them.

Brienne wonders what she looks like, appearing from the darkness into a firelit crypt of a long-ruined castle.  From their open mouths and wide eyes, she expects she looks like some demon from the seven hells, come to take them home.  She _hopes_ that’s what she looks like; she _wants_ to scare the living shit out of all of them.

Those who are tied to the crosses on the pyre struggle to crane their heads high enough to see what’s going on.

They all stand in a frozen tableau then Bronna says, her voice muffled by the gag in her mouth, “Well, it’s about bloody time you got here,” and all seven hells break loose.

*/*/*/*/*

Yna screams, Jorah curses, Marwyn steps back.  Maggy and Mirri advance on her, their teeth bared, while the fourth woman, the one Brienne doesn’t recognize, shouts at them to deal with her.

Jaime steps around the corner and the two women falter in their advance.

Jorah curses even louder then pulls a knife.  Jaime yells at Jorah to drop his weapon but Jorah ignores him.  Instead Jorah leaps on the pyre, cuts the ropes binding Dany in two swift strokes of the knife, then drags her with him as he turns and darts into the blackness behind him, leading deeper into the crypts.

Jaime curses, and Brienne says, “Go after them.  He’ll break their necks if he’s not careful.”

“What about my neck?” Jaime grumbles even as he’s sprinting after them.  He pauses only long enough to land a left-handed punch on Marwyn’s jaw, and the other man collapses in a heap.  The leader of this merry band of criminals curses at the sight.

Brienne never takes her eyes off Mirri and Maggy, who are advancing steadily towards her.

“Really?” Brienne says.  “You’re really going to try this?”

Mirri says, “I have studied and learned much, child, more than you will ever know in your lifetime.”  She gracefully moves into the stance of a water dancer, even though she has no weapons in her hands.  Maggy does the same.

Brienne sighs.  “Well, this is the moment when I wish I had a gun,” she says, and moves forward to meet them.

They’re good, she’ll give them that, and brave, considering she’s younger, bigger, and stronger.  They land several blows that are painful and have her staggering back, but in the end, Brienne has rage, skill, and self-confidence—she survived for days in a forest with mad men on her heels, after all—on her side.  She also has a longer reach and more strength behind her blows.

By the time she’s knocked Mirri and Maggy to the floor, Marwyn is regaining consciousness.  She steps over the fallen women, and knocks him out again with one blow.  Yna backs away, cringing and crying, her hands in front of her face.  In the blackness of the crypts, Brienne hears Dany scream then abruptly fall silent, and for the first time, Brienne feels a frisson of fear shiver down her spine.

But she has no time to worry.

The woman with the long brown hair looks with disgust at her fallen comrades and Yna, who’s now crouching on the floor and sobbing, and shakes her head.

“Why do I have to do everything myself?” she growls and pulls out a gun.

Brienne raises her hands as she considers the gaping black hole of the gun muzzle.

“Well,” Brienne says, “now I’m sorry I told you I didn’t have one of those.”

The woman bares her teeth in a feral grin.  “I always thought you were too stupid to be a detective.”

That startles Brienne and she glares hard at the other woman, trying to determine if she’s ever seen her before.  There’s something vaguely familiar about her long, thin face and her grey eyes, but Brienne is prepared to swear she’s never met the woman before.

Not that it matters; she has more immediate concerns, namely the gun pointing unwaveringly at her midriff.

Brienne carefully edges away.

“Stop moving,” the woman snaps and Brienne freezes.  The woman looks around at her fallen companions and scowls.  “How long before they wake up?”

Brienne raises an eyebrow.  “How would I know?  I’m too stupid to be a detective, remember?”

The woman glares, then snaps, “Yna!”

Yna moans a little but doesn’t get up from her crouched position on the floor.

The woman curses again.  “At least bring me the rope!”

Yna frantically shakes her head and Brienne worries for a moment that the woman will lose her patience and shoot either her or Yna.  Instead the woman rolls her eyes, then, keeping the gun pointed steadily at Brienne’s midriff, she moves to pick up the spare rope, left over, apparently, from when they tied up the others.

Then the woman does what Brienne was praying she would do:  she moves closer.

When the moment is right, Brienne snatches at the gun and twists it out of the woman’s hand.  Brienne feels a bone break beneath her grip and the woman screams.  Brienne draws back her fist, but freezes as Jon, who had been struggling to remove his gag finally succeeds, and shouts, “Please don’t hurt her!  That’s my mother!”

*/*/*/*/*


	9. Eight

***/*/*/*/***

“Your _mother_?” Jaime says, emerging out of the darkened corridor, pushing Jorah ahead of him.  Jorah is a little worse for wear:  he has his hands tied behind his back, his eye is blackened, and blood is seeping from his nose.  Dany follows close behind, rubbing her knuckles with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

Jaime catches Brienne’s eye and winks, and she momentarily goes limp with relief.

Dany hurries over to Jon and unties him.  They then free the others and they all join Jaime and Brienne in tying up Yna, Maggy, Mirri, Marwyn, and, Brienne thinks, looking curiously at the woman who seems to be behind all of this, Lyanna Stark.  Now that she knows who she’s looking at, she can see the resemblance to Ned and Jon, and also to Arya, if she squints.

Marwyn, Maggy and Mirri slowly come round as Brienne finishes tying the last knot on the ropes around Lyanna’s feet.

“Yeah,” Bronna snarls stalking up to Lyanna, “I should kick your teeth in, for all the auroch-shit you’ve put me through!  Not to mention Sam and Dany and your own son!”

“Bronna,” Brienne says, her voice firm, “we’re not like them.”

“ _You_ may not be like them, but _I_ sure as fuck am!”

“Bronna,” Brienne says, and gives her a stern look.

Bronna glares then practically dances with frustration as she says, “Fine.  Fine!  I’ll do it your way, but I swear to the old gods and the new, no matter what prison they end up in, I will find a way to make these assholes pay!”

Brienne looks at Lyanna, who’s cradling her broken hand even through the ropes that bind her.  Lyanna is sneering up at Bronna.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Lyanna hisses.  “I have more power than you understand, and you and everyone in this room will regret what you’ve interrupted this night.”

“Mass murder?” Jaime says, his voice dry.

Lyanna snorts.  “If this was just about murder, your girlfriend over there would be dead on the ground.”

“And you would be lifeless beside her,” Jaime says and there must be something in his face because Lyanna’s eyes widen and she flinches back.

“Be that as it may,” Brienne says, before things can get even more out of hand, “if this wasn’t just about murder, then what was all this about?”

Lyanna turns to her, her grey eyes glittering.  “ _Magic_ , you utter, blind _fool_!  The return of magic to the world!  The return of dragons!  The waking of Bran the Sleeper!  Together we will cleanse the world of madness and evil, and return us all to simpler times when people lived in harmony with nature and magic and each other.”

They stand and stare down at her.

“And you’d achieve this by burning three people alive?” Brienne says and wonders if she looks as skeptical as she sounds.

“Only death can pay for life,” Lyanna says.  “Three eggs; three lives, although there was never any danger to Daenerys.  The Dragon Queen will be reborn from the flames to join with Azor Ahai and together, they will cleanse the world of its depravities.”

Jaime’s mouth sags open as she speaks, and when she finishes, they continue to stand and stare at her in silence until Jaime says, “You know, you sounded a whole lot saner on the phone.”

Brienne puts her hand on his arm and says, “Who’s Azor Ahai?”

“Jon, of course.  The product of Ice and Fire.  It’s the only reason I ever fucked that idiot in the first place.”  She smiles at Jon, a mad, manic smile.  “I knew you would be the one to save the world.”

“Dany’s the one who’s going to save the world,” Jorah mutters, his voice nasal and soggy with blood.

“It’s Jon,” Maggy snaps.

“Dany,” Marwyn says.

“Jon,” Yna says and gives him a besotted smile.

“Dany,” Mirri says.

“It’s Jon!” Lyanna snarls.  “It’s always been Jon!  I should know; he’s my son!”

Bronna and Sam exchange a look and shake their heads.

“It’s been like this the entire time,” Sam says with a groan.  “Can I be the one to kick their teeth in?  Just to shut them up.”

*/*/*/*/*

In the end, no one kicks in anyone’s teeth.  Brienne heads to the surface with Jon and Dany and calls the Winterfell City Watch.  While they’re waiting for the police to arrive, she lets Jon and Dany phone first Rhaella, then the Starks.  Jon explaining to Ned that Ned’s beloved sister was a kidnapper, had tried to murder three people, and was behind the thefts of numerous valuable historical artifacts was not an easy or quick conversation.  Jon’s still on the phone when the police arrive and he cuts the call short with a heavy sigh.

“This is not the way I wanted to meet my mother,” he mutters, and leads the officers into the crypts.

*/*/*/*/*

The next few days pass in a whirlwind of confusion, disbelief and, as always, a media frenzy.  By the end of two weeks, however, everyone believes they’ve pieced the story together.

Lyanna, long secretly obsessed with the legend of Bran the Sleeper, and the myth that he will waken when dragons and magic return to the world, met Rhaegar Targaryen while trapped in an increasingly difficult marriage to Robert Baratheon.  She remembered a story from the Age of Magic, about a saviour born of ice and fire, and decided that since Rhaegar had the name Targaryen, and she was a Stark of Winterfell—no matter how many generations removed—any child they produced must therefore be the prophesied saviour.  She had the affair with Rhaegar for the sole purpose of getting pregnant.  Elia’s murder was tragic, but it gave Lyanna the reason she needed to leave both Robert and Rhaegar behind her.

She gave Jon to Ned to raise while she made her fortune in Essos, and amass a fortune, she did.  She was a shrewd investor and entrepreneur, although she operated under a variety of aliases since she had no desire to be found by either Robert or Rhaegar.  As she made her fortune, she also continued to research magic and legends, and read everything she could find on Bran the Sleeper, dragons, the Last Dragon Queen, and the end of the Age of Magic.  She founded the House of the Undying, connected with Jorah and Marwyn and other people like them, such as Maggy and Mirri and Yna, helped fund digs like the ones in Vaes Dothrak and on Driftmark, and bided her time.

When Daenerys appeared in her first movie, Lyanna knew the time was near.  Daenerys was almost the same age as Jon, and exactly what a Dragon Queen should look like…according to Jorah, at least.

“And all the artifacts you stole?”  Jaime asks.

“They’ll all revert to their original form once magic returns to the world, and the books will help us navigate our way through raising the dragons and keeping them safe.  Think of it!  Valyrian steel will no longer be mythical, but real.  Gems to create any illusion you want.  Glass candles!  And dragons!  We just needed to wait until legitimate eggs were found before we could act.”

It took her some time to track down everything she needed to gather together and all the while she was waiting for signs to tell her when to act and what she should do next.  Then Marwyn rushed to Lyanna’s side with a piece of pottery he discovered in Vaes Dothrak.  The pottery had ancient writing on it that, when deciphered, told a fragmented story about a beautiful woman who walked into a fire and emerged with dragons draped over her shoulders.

With that story, Lyanna, at last, knew exactly what needed to be done.

She already had the dragon eggs, thanks to Jorah; now she needed the Dragon Queen and enough sacrifices to hatch the other eggs.  That's where Sam and Bronna came in.  They weren't chosen because they worked for Jaime Lannister Investigations; they were kidnapped because they were strangers to the conspirators.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting someone who was my friend,” Yna tells them, her face earnest.

“Well, at least you understood it was going to hurt,” Brienne mutters, her voice dry.

When Lyanna learned that Jon would be vacationing with his father and, more importantly, Daenerys, at the same time as the Magicon was scheduled, she took that as another sign that the time was right to perform the ritual.  Everything was aligning, after all, as if by... _magic_.

The rest of the story just confirms what Jaime and Brienne have already deduced.  Lyanna and her followers were determined to perform the ritual in Winterfell, the home of Bran the Sleeper.  They were convinced Dany would survive the fire, and the sacrifices would ensure the hatching of the yearned for dragons.  The birth of the dragons would wake Bran the Sleeper, and he, together with Jon and Dany, would cleanse all the evils from of the world, something that was far overdue.

“The world is getting worse and worse,” Lyanna says.  “Look at what happened to Elia.  Gregor Clegane went free for twenty-five years, and what other cruelties did he visit on people in that time?  How many other Elia’s are out there?”  She deflates, looking suddenly sad.  “I wish I’d known what was going to happen.  Mayhaps...”

Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance, then Brienne says, “Mayhaps what?”

Lyanna sighs.  “Mayhaps if I had known she was in danger, I could have convinced her to leave with me.”  For a moment, her eyes don't have that glitter of madness that has lurked in their depths since Brienne first saw her in those red robes and bathed in golden fire.  Instead, those grey eyes only show remorse and yearning.  Lyanna gives them a half-smile.  “I loved her, you know, although I didn’t know how much until she was gone.  I think...I _hope_ she loved me, too.”  She shakes her head.  “Elia is the only thing that I regret.”

Jaime leans forward and asks, his voice gentle, “Was she happy with you?”

Lyanna stares unblinking at him then her lips curve into a soft smile.  “Yes.  Yes, I think she was.”

Jaime leans back in his chair and nods.  “I’m glad.”

“So am I.”

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne finally return from Winterfell and all but collapse into their bed.  In the morning, they go to the agency and find a subdued Bronna and Sam waiting for them.

“Let’s go into the boardroom,” Brienne says.

Brienne deliberately keeps the television off and once they’re settled, she says, “Look, let’s not kid ourselves.  None of us are ready to go back to work right now.”

Everyone around the table exchanges guilty looks then nods.

Brienne says, “We have three weeks before the gala at the museum, and no cases.  Let’s all take the next three weeks as a more-than-well-earned holiday.  We’ll relax, recharge—”

“Stay out of trouble,” Jaime mutters and Brienne nods.

“Stay out of trouble—we hope.  We'll go to the gala—the King and Queen are going to be there, after all—and re-open for business the following day.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Sam says.

“I think I’ll spend some time with my dad,” Bronna says.  “He’s pretty freaked out that I was almost burned at the, well, cross, I suppose.”

Sam nods.  “My father doesn’t give a shit, but my mother would like to see more of me for a little while.”

Jaime looks at Brienne, and she looks at him.

“We could go to Tarth,” she says, suddenly shy.  “If you want.”

Jaime’s eyes widen.  “Tarth?”

She nods.  “My father would like to meet you.”

He looks suddenly dismayed.  “Your father’s alive?”

She smirks.  “And very, very interested in what I’ve been up to lately.”

“Oh gods,” he groans and covers his face with his hand.

*/*/*/*/*


	10. Epilogue

***/*/*/*/***

Jaime weathers meeting Brienne’s father, although he swears to her it’s the most frightening moment in his colourful life.  Brienne rolls her eyes then reluctantly agrees with him.

They, along with Bronna and Sam, return from their holidays rested and ready to return to work.  They also return in time to attend the re-opening of the exhibit dedicated to the First Lannister King, Jaime I, better known as Goldenhand the Just, and his Queen, Brienne the Beauty.

Pia, glowing with excitement, meets them at the museum door and hugs each of them in turn.

“I’m so glad you’re all right and are safe now,” she says to them.  “Who knew the person behind these thefts was so deranged?”  She gives Brienne a searching look and her resulting smile is almost sly.  “Thank you all for coming tonight; I don’t think you’re going to be disappointed.”  She leans closer and lowers her voice.  “We’re going to reveal a very special exhibit that I think will send the scholars studying the first Lannister King and his Queen reeling.”

Brienne groans once Pia bustles away to greet the next set of high-profile guests entering the exhibit hall.  “I don’t think I can stand anything else that will send people reeling.”

“Well,” Bronna says cheerfully, “so long as it isn’t criminal, I’m prepared to sit back and enjoy it.”

*/*/*/*/*

The re-opening of the exhibit is even busier than the first opening, and Jaime and Brienne wonder, along with all the other guests, what’s hidden beneath the gold-blue-red shroud that dominates the centre of the exhibit hall.

They leave Bronna and Sam to their own devices and stroll through the exhibit, Jaime’s hand never far from Brienne’s, or pressing warm and firm against her back to guide her through the crowd.  His attentive presence beside her makes her feel a little awkward, because she hasn’t forgotten the cruel words posted on the various social media sites, but it mostly makes her incredibly happy.  They’ve been through so much the last few months, including meeting her father, and they’re still together.  If they can survive all of that, then they can survive a few sneering looks and cruel jokes at her expense.

They pause at the sword hilt and exchange smiles filled with memories and shared secrets.

“Tyrion isn’t here, is he, to steal the thing again?” Brienne says, only half-teasing.

Jaime grins.  “Tywin has assured me Tyrion is out of town, just like Tyrion said.”

“If you can trust his word.”

Jaime mock-sighs.  “Sadly, I can’t.  Still, if the sword hilt goes missing again, we already have a prime suspect.”

Brienne laughs as they move on to the other exhibits.  They finally stop in front of the two fragile pieces of parchment that had been found in the crypts, clutched in the respective hands of the King and his beloved Queen.  The paintings that had hung above the parchments have been replaced with television screens that are currently blank.

Jaime and Brienne lean over the cases, shoulders brushing as they read once again the locations and dates that are on those fragile pieces of paper:  the Quiet Isle, the Great Sept of Baelor, the weirwood tree of Highgarden, the bedchamber at Casterly Rock, the sept in the Red Keep, between Moat Cailin and the Twins, the Quiet Isle.

“Do you think anyone will ever learn what these mean?” Brienne asks.

Jaime shrugs, his smile gentle.  “I’m not certain it matters if anyone does or not.  What matters is that _they_ knew what it meant, and they considered it precious enough for them to be buried with this list in each of their hands.”

She blinks at him and says, “They knew what went on between them.”

“Just like we do,” he murmurs.  He leans in to kiss her but is interrupted.

“Ladies and gentlemen!  If I can have your attention, please!”

They turn to look at the speaker, Jos, who’s looking almost as happy as Pia.  He’s standing front of the shrouded exhibit in the centre of the room.

The room falls silent as everyone focuses on him, and his smile turns nervous.

“We have two very special guests tonight, who will unveil the newest addition to our exhibit.  Ladies and gentleman:  King Duncan III, and Queen Rohanne!”

The crowd erupts with excited exclamations and Brienne now sees the Kingsguard—the true Kingsguard and not the sycophants catering to Rhaegar Targaryen—scattered throughout the room.  She identifies them now mainly because of their discreet earpieces and the way they whisper into their wrists.

She nudges Jaime and nods her head towards one of the Kingsguard who is doing just that, and says, “Now, there’s something we should consider adding to your gold hand.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.  “What makes you think I don’t already have it?”  Her eyes widen and he laughs.  “I’m joking, Brienne.  You’re right:  that would be a handy addition.”

It takes her a moment, then she groans and opens her mouth, but he stops her response with a quick kiss then turns as the King and Queen arrive at the dais.

King Duncan III is tall and broad with a thick head of hair, and a face that’s almost-but-not-quite handsome.  Queen Rohanne is in direct contrast to the King:  undeniably beautiful and short of stature with strawberry-blonde hair worn long and often in elaborate hairstyles.

Queen Rohanne gives King Duncan an encouraging smile before he turns to the crowd and begins to speak.

“Thank you all for attending this re-opening of the exhibit of the first King and Queen of the Lannister and Tarth dynasty.  We are grateful for your continued interest in our family and our ancestors.”  He beams out at everyone, his homely face shining.  “The Queen and I are here today because what we are about to unveil is...well, it’s shocking, and puts everything we thought we knew about King Jaime I Lannister, Goldenhand the Just, and his Queen, Brienne I of Tarth, known through the ages as the Beauty, into doubt.”

Brienne’s stomach sinks.  If they’ve discovered something that would cast doubt on their devotion to each other, she thinks her heart will literally break.

Jaime must read her mind because he reaches out and takes her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

King Duncan continues.  “The good people here at the museum undertook facial and body reconstructions of my ancestors through the use of MRI scans of the skeletons, the latest techniques, and 3-D printing.  By doing so, these dedicated scientists and researchers have rediscovered truths about the First Lannister King and his Queen that have been lost for centuries.  They have given us the true faces of my ancestors and in so doing, have reminded me, at least, of the humanity of my ancestors, a humanity that has been too long lost to legend and myth.  For that reason alone, the people here at this museum will forever have my thanks.  Now, without further ado, Queen Rohanne and I present to you, here and now… _King Jaime I Lannister, and his Queen, Brienne I of Tarth_!”

The shroud is released and falls, revealing two mannequins:  one, a tall, handsome blonde man with a right hand of gold, and beside him, an even taller woman, broad of shoulder and face, and no one, not even the most kind, would ever describe her as beautiful.  Both faces are as familiar to Brienne as her own.

Brienne’s jaw slowly drops as everyone stares at the two mannequins in stunned silence before pandemonium breaks out.

Jaime is laughing as he throws his arms around her and says, “Maybe magic exists after all!”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne hands Jaime a bowl of ice cream and settles beside him on the couch just as the interview they’re watching returns from commercial.

“Every university in Westeros was given the opportunity to complete their own scans of the skeletons, correct?”

King Duncan nods.  “Yes.”

“I understand that all the reconstructions to date have had similar results.”

“Yes.”

“What does this mean for the history of the first Lannister King and his Queen?  Are the legends of their great love affair simply... _lies_?”

King Duncan laughs.  “Are you saying they’re lies because Queen Brienne I is not the beauty history claimed her to be?  I hope my ancestors would not be so easily swayed!  Besides, as you know, King Jaime I and Queen Brienne I had at least a dozen children, according to what can be proven and traced through the marriage records of the high born Houses and DNA analysis.  Their love affair is as legendary as the songs would have us believe, mayhaps even more so, given this new evidence.”

“What happens now?”

“They will be reinterred within the next few weeks in a single coffin here in the family crypts in the Red Keep.”  His smile is slow and rather sweet.  “I think they would like that.  I’m also pleased to announce we will be opening up the vaults of our family records to researchers for the first time in decades.  I’ve been told by the Doctors Peckledon that they’ve already discovered never-before-seen letters between the First Lannister King and his Queen.  There are not many as it appears they were seldom apart for more than a day.”

“Letters?”

Now King Duncan’s smile becomes slightly wicked.  “I’m assured these letters are...hmm... _enlightening_ , to say the least.”

“Enlightening in what way?”

“Let us just say those dozen children were not a surprise.”

“But if the reconstruction can be trusted, then the Queen was no Beauty!”

“Not physically, no.”

“What do you think this all means?”

“It means love has powerful magic all its own…and beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.”

*/*/*/*/*

“A dozen children?” Brienne yelps as the credits roll.  “That poor woman!”

Jaime gives her a wicked grin as he takes her now-empty bowl and puts it beside his on the coffee table.  He slides his hands beneath her t-shirt and says, “A truly dedicated pair, and two thousand years in the past.”

She glares at him.  “What are you doing?”

“Making some magic of our own,” he purrs and kisses her.

###### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**   I realized I didn’t have enough to say for a separate Author’s Note, so I’ll just do it at the end.
> 
> This is it:  the end of this particular universe.  One crazy plot bunny, fifteen months, thirteen episodes…gods only know what I’m going to do now that this is finished!  Thanks again to the crowd over at JaimeBrienneOnline for the plot bunny (although I still hate all of you for showing me the cute little thing).
> 
> As for me…like I said, I don’t know what the muses will bring me next.  I have original fic to finish and self-publish, and I may try to file off the serial numbers on these stories and add them to my catalogue.  ;D  Who knows?  In the meantime, I’m going to re-read the books and see if the muses send me something new.
> 
> Thanks for coming along for the (longer than anticipated) ride with me!  I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
